


Not a very good Barrel-Rider

by Savvylicious



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Trigger Warning: Drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savvylicious/pseuds/Savvylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request. Bilbo gets separated from the dwarves as they flee in barrels from the Mirkwood Elves and Bolg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a very good Barrel-Rider

**Author's Note:**

> [ I hope you enjoy! I am always open for requests! ]

The roaring rapids that had carried them downstream and away from the elves and orcs had died down to a more gentle tide. Their barrels hit rocks and sent each dwarf rolling out, sopping wet on the riverbed. The smallest of them could hardly drag themselves from the water, being too exhausted to.

Thorin struggled his way to the shore, spitting out water and dragging his bedraggled nephews out after him. Fili was no more worse for wear than the others, but Kili seemed to be injured. After making certain the two of them were securely on the shore and safe for the moment, he shoved his hair back and turned to check on the others.

Dwalin had his hands full with Ori and Nori, Balin was relying on Bifur for balance, and the rest were scattered but thankfully whole.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he noticed that their burglar was not among them. Panic welled up in his chest and he sloshed through the sluggish water, checking in between barrels.

"The hobbit! Where is he?! Where is Bilbo?!"

Those that had the strength to do so began to search with him, their movements becoming more frantic as it became apparent that Bilbo was not among them. Bofur was the first one to spot him. He’d gone a ways upstream, heart heavy with concern, and seen the red fabric of Bilbo’s waistcoat on the shoreline. “Here! He’s here!” He called to the others, running to the hobbit as best as he could on the uneven shore of the riverbed.

Bilbo was on his side, still clinging to a piece of driftwood. Bofur would have been relieved were it not for the fact his friend was loose and still and unmoving.

Stomach churning, he dropped down, oblivious to the rocks that digged into his knees. “Bilbo, ‘ey. Bilbo c’mon.” He gave the hobbit a light shake, hands gentle and trembling and he gathered Bilbo up into his arms. “C’mon lad, wa’e up. Yer fine. C’mon now.”

Bilbo did not stir, and it was with a great panic that Bofur saw that his chest was not moving.

"Thorin— Thorin help! Thorin he’s no’breathing! Wha’do I do?"

Thorin was at his side at an instant, but he too looked on uncertainly at Bilbo’s prone form. Bofur saw the turmoil in his king’s eyes and felt doubly guilty that he was so very useless in this sort of situation. Together they gazed despairingly at the drowned hobbit, throats and eyes burning with emotion.

"He tol’ me. In Rivendale. Tol’ me he cunna’ swim."

Thorin said nothing, his eyes cold and jaw fixed tight enough that it looked he might break a tooth. He reached out gave the hobbit’s shoulder a light shake of his own, still not registering the fact that Bilbo had drowned. As if his gentle prodding would somehow wake him. The others slowly came to join them, wet faces solemn. It was too hard to believe. That their burglar had come so far and so close to the end, only to be lost.

And all the while Thorin blamed himself. For having strayed from the forest path, for not accepting Thranduil’s deal, or figuring out a way to escape from the elf king’s dungeon. For having ever agreed to allow little Bilbo Baggins to ever rush out from his homely hole and join him on his forsaken quest.

"Outta me way. Move it!" Oin’s voice suddenly screeched as he shoved his way through the others, kneeling down at Bofur’s front. With hands that were rough and speedy, he took Bilbo and slung the limp hobbit over his shoulder, great fist pounding the tiny frame of his back.

The company watched with growing hope, none more so than Thorin, and cheered loudly when Bilbo suddenly retched and flailed. A knowing smile on his face, he offered their wheezing burglar to Thorin and shuffled off to tend to Kili.

Thorin took him with care and allowed Bilbo a moment to catch his breath before pulling the both of them to stand, a great relief and happiness washing over him. Bilbo looked rather pathetic, huddling and gasping in the safety of Thorin’s arms, but the others were courteous enough to busy themselves with other things.

"Remind me-" Bilbo coughed between gasps, his grip on Thorin’s shirt tight, "N-Never to do that again."

Thorin’s chuckle was rumbling, low and grateful and warm with something neither of them could seem to place.

“So long as you don’t, I do think all will be well.”


End file.
